Saturday Slight: the Old Neighborhood

I'll never forget the movie "Return to Bountiful."  Basically, it told the story of an elderly lady who wanted to go to the home where she had lived most of her adult life. 

It's been years since I saw it, but the message of the importance of "home" still resounds in my mind. 

I'm sad every time I drive down Boyer or Woodland Drive to see no visible reminders of the North Boyer farm where we six siblings all grew up. 

Most of our childhood home is now a large flat piece of dirt surrounding by a cyclone fence, with no woods, no buildings---just some equipment most likely being used to install basic infrastructure for some kind of subdivision which will eventually net millions for the owner.

Another portion, mostly our hayfield and south pasture has been used for big hangars, some of which house multi-million-dollar lear jets and, in some cases, accompanying residences for the owners of those planes. 

Little do these occupants or owners know the true richness of that land where they now live.  Most likely, they don't really care about the family history which unfolded there as my folks developed a rather rundown farm into a place where Hereford cows, horses, cats, dogs and kids abounded. 

They are creating their own history. 

It's hard for me these days to look at that land and revive the images of my childhood, mainly because, in its present state, the plot of ground near the airport does not possess any hint of its past. 

That's okay, though.  

When my folks sold the place, they moved on to another place where they could continue the lifestyle they so loved without the daily turmoil of what the county was gonna do next to disrupt their lives. 

When we lived for 30 years and raised our kids on a nearby small farm along Great Northern Road, we also knew that the day would come when "progress" would turn into our nemesis. 

Our rural lifestyle had already taken a hit by the time we had found this farm out in beautiful Selle and had the good fortune to sell our "piece of dirt" to Quest Aircraft Co.

No longer would we have the feeling of encroachment by industrialville.  We too could go back to the country and live in relative piece and sheer beauty. 

So, in both cases, came rewards of a better life, but there still is a sense of loss realizing that the childhood home now survives as a figment of our imagination or in the old photo albums. 

I went to town yesterday to do an errand, and when it was completed, knowing I had some time, I directed the car toward the old neighborhood and eventually to our farm on Great Northern Road where the driveway warns of no trespassing. 

It certainly has changed with the buildings looking a bit run down and with the healthy growth of a whole lot of Aspen saplings which used to get mowed down by my lawnmower. 

Happily, though, the "remnants" of the big barn, shed and house are still there, and, indeed, it's easy to think about all the stuff that happened in that barn and in that barnyard while we lived there.  

Someone mentioned to Bill the "Mud Olympics" the other day at the forestry contest.  I think we held them two years in a row----competition in the mud between two Sandpoint High School clubs. 

We watched the air shows, and we watched the black cloud of the Mt. St. Helens eruption come floating in before feeling quarantined in our house for a week as the air cleared. 

Kids went to the pond to play with frogs.  

High school students came out, ate donuts and paddled the Coleman canoe around the pond. 

Mama Duck kept me busy there for a couple of weeks, swimming with her baby ducks to where I stood on a dirt mound every day throwing handouts to her. 

We watched in horror as our house burned down one winter night, and  we watched John Knowles and his crew rebuild it a few months later. 

So many memories on that piece of dirt and still so nice to be able to still look at the structures and the general layout and think of 30 good years when that ten-acre plot served as home. 

The neighborhood itself has certainly grown up with structures and activity since we left almost 13 years ago. 

While driving from the old Upper Place (now a subdivision), I loved seeing the blue lupine already blooming along the roadsides.  

It still feels good to drive down Gooby Road and know that my childhood neighbors, the Gooby's still live there. 

 I truly did love that movie "Return to Bountiful," and, as a sentimental nostalgia slob, I totally understand that lady's urgent desire to go back and experience "home." 

Happily, we quickly re-established "home" out here in the Selle Valley, and, for the most part, never looked back to North Boyer or Great Northern Road.

Unlike the lady in the movie, urgency is not a factor in the occasional drives past the old home places. 

Sometimes, however, it's nice to just be near that "real estate" and reflect upon defining years and rich stories which unfolded during other times in our unique history.

BTW:  Hope was lovely last night too.  Returning to Ice House Pizza and its astounding views sometimes is urgent and well worth the trip. 

Happy Saturday.